


True Love's Kiss

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, MissAnonWrites, stuffed toy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 16:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason, a villain of the underworld has turned Tom into a small stuffed toy lion. The spell is only reversed through true love’s kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Love's Kiss

**Tom’s POV**

It’s terrifying, here amongst the countless other toys.

Never knowing who might pick you up, look you over, drop you, pass you to their child.

More terrifying yet is not knowing _when_ someone will finally pick you and take you home. And _where_ will that be? And _who_? A Japanese tourist, who will keep you in the Hamleys bag for days, squash you into their suitcase for the plane home then gift you to their three year old neice?

It’s a thought, isn’t it.

Still, chin up. Could be worse. At least I’m still in London. That villain _could_ have stuck me on a shelf in the middle of nowhere, a dusty toy shop with next to no customers.

I hope I’m not crying. That would be weird.

I feel like I’m crying.

____________________

<2 days later>

I have noticed a few things.

1\. None of the other toys are enchanted. I can’t talk. It is incredibly frustrating. And lonely.

2\. My toy range is not hugely popular. Generic lion toys are not en vogue, it seems. 

3\. It hurts when I get dropped on the floor.

4\. I sometimes get worried that I’ll be handled by someone with germy hands. As a toy, i don’t think I’ll get infected. Just paranoid, I suppose

5\. I don’t have to eat or pee, which is a bonus. But I can’t help thinking of food. I really miss tea.

6\. I’m actually quite sensitive to touch and temperature. I really like being handled by people (as long as they don’t pull at my paws or drop me). I don’t like being near the metal shelf divider, it makes me shudder with cold.

________________

<5 days later>

I’ve learnt a handy trick to help me cope with this predicament.

I can doze off even though my glass bead eyes are still open. Who’s going to know?! It passes the time, and I can dream of being human again. I try not to reminisce too much as it makes me sad, but I dream of things like the ocean, of steak, of waking up in bed, of being in the park…

A warm hand prompts me to wake, and I expect it to be another tourist family, with children in tow.

Instead, it’s a lone woman. In her twenties, maybe, furrowing her brow as she picks me up and looks down at me.

I wonder if she has a child. I wonder if she’ll take me home with her. 

I look at her, as she strokes the soft fur of my mane. Her eyes are the deepest blue, and her hair is wild, auburn, softly framing her face.

She strokes along my nose, her lips curving into a small smile. It feel _wonderful_.

She shrugs to herself, holds me by the neck, and carries me past the swathes of shoppers towards the till.

I’m _terrified_.

______________

She put me on a bed. _Her_ bed. A big double bed. She nestles me amongst giant cushions and blankets and pillows.

 _This_ is toy heaven. From shopping bag to fleece blankets and fake-fur cushions? Paradise.

No sight or sound of children. _Yet_.

She appears to be into art and design. She has a giant cork-board with clippings from magazines over her desk, images of patterns and nature and fashion.

She pats my head, murmuring ‘so adorable’, then walks out, hips swaying as she goes.

If I could smile through this soft fabric lion’s mouth, I would. Oh, I would.

I doze off.

__________________

I am woken with a start as the mound of pillows under me shift. I topple over onto the duvet, and from this angle can watch her readying for sleep. She’s leaning over the bed in just a vest and shorts, moving the pillows into place and opening the covers for her to get in. The lamp on the bedside table provides the only light - a dim amber glow.

She is beautiful, and smells of minty toothpaste and vanilla lotion.

She pulls out a notebook from the bedside table and starts writing furiously in it. Her journal, I presume. She writes quietly for a few minutes, then her eyes move to look at me. She smiles, picks me up, and holds me on her lap with one hand, while the other continues to write. Maybe she’s writing about me?

She absentmindedly strokes my fur, and after filling a page in her book, sets it aside. She gazes at me, musing, as her fingers pet me. It feels wonderful. The kids in Hamleys would poke, or drag, or pull, and sometimes try to stroke but their aimless fingers would poke in my eye or scratch at my throat.

Nothing like this.

_I have a feeling I’m going to like it here._

She sets me down next to her and turns out the light.

I lie surrounded by pillows, blankets, and can feel the top of her warm shoulder next to me. She sighs happily, and her breathing slows. I listen in the dark. Warm, safe, my fate sealed, I feel the most content I have ever since I took this form.

____________________________

I must have dozed off again. You can hardly blame me. It’s so snug and warm and cosy.

She had turned in her sleep, and nuzzled (yes, nuzzled) her face next to my paws. I looked down, helpless, wanting to touch her, but of course unable to do so. < _internal sigh_ > Back to sleep I go.

_____________________________

The light through the blinds woke me, before her. I just lay on my side next to her, looking. Wondering. Wanting to know more about her. Wondering what her voice sounds like, beyond a whisper.

She begins to groan, stretching slowly, and notices me next to her. She sleepily rolls close to me, grinning, then in a low morning growl says “Hello, little one.”

She playfully plants a kiss on my small nose.

_______________________________

"Oh god! Oh god. _Oh god._ ”

"Please stop shrieking," I wring my hands, "I can explain everything!"

"Who the hell … WHAT…. did you actually turn from that toy into _THIS?!_ ”

She grabs at the bed sheets, covering her body as much as she can, including her shoulders, even though she’s not naked.

Whereas _I am_.

I hold my hands up placating as a gesture of peace. “I’m not going to hurt you, I…,”

"Get out!!"

I wince at her words, but nod, and quickly pad out of her room, looking for the bathroom.

_____________________________

Now I’m in her bathroom, I don’t know what the hell to do with myself.

I search her laundry cupboard for something to cover myself with. All I can find are towels and sheets, so I wrap a bath towel around my waist. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Being a stuffed toy for so many weeks had affected my human body cycle somehow - my hair is shaggy and unkempt, and I have a thick (for me, at any rate) beard. I look mildly trampy. No wonder she had freaked out.

Sighing and cursing to myself, I try to figure out how to get out in the best possible way. All I can do is stand at the sink, biding myself time before I have to open the door.

Then I hear a knock.

"Are you okay in there?" Her voice is tired, yet gentle.

I cautiously begin to open the door, holding it open a couple of inches.

She folds her arms across herself, hugging herself, looking quite vulnerable.

I nod. “I’m sorry…,” I begin, but she cuts me off with a shake of her head.

"You haven’t done anything wrong, I don’t think, just tell me what the hell… who are you? _What_ are you? What just happened?”

Her eyes shine with confusion and a little fear. I want to soothe the fear away. Having anyone be afraid of me makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable.

"Can we talk, over tea, perhaps?" I say quietly, and she nods.

____________________________

Oh how I’ve missed you, Earl Grey.

"So you were under a spell?" Her eyebrows raise incredulously, as her fingers skim across the rim of her mug.

"Well, they call it an enchantment, but yes, I suppose a spell is the same thing." I shift on the sofa, making sure the towel doesn’t drop as I move.

"And you got turned into a soft toy?"

"Yes." Why do I feel embarrassed about that?

She takes a swig of her tea.

"And you turned back into human form when I …," she looks away.

I reach out to hold her hand, but stop myself.

"Yes, when you… kissed me," I say quietly, and set my mug down on the floor at my side.

She closes her eyes. “Why is that? Why do you think that happened?”

I wipe my palms along the towel, and try to think of the best way to tell her.

There really isn’t a best way to say it.

"The spell is broken by true love’s kiss." I clear my throat, and stand.

"I, um… I should probably go, I need to get some proper clothes and get back to my flat. I’d imagine all my plants have died by now and the mail will be cluttering up the hallway so…," I start babbling to distract myself from my realisation.

If she did indeed break the spell then _she must be my true love_.

Do you know how strange it is to meet a stranger and know that, inevitably, they’re _meant_ for you?

I begin to head out of the living room towards the bathroom, running through in my head what I need to do. I need to borrow a tee shirt or something from her, I need to use her phone to call a cab, as soon as I get home I need to contact everyone to let them know I’m okay…

"Hey," I hear her call after me, and she walks up behind me. "Please."

I turn to face her.

"I.. don’t even know your name." She smiles softly.

I smile sheepishly. “It’s Tom.” I rather formally extend my hand out to her.

"Jo," she shakes my hand, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Apparently, i’m your true love." Her eyes dart about in embarrassment, and she bows her head.

I chuckle. “Apparently so.” This is strange.

We stand in a friendly silence in her hallway, our hands held, hanging between us.

She chews her lip. “I’m curious, now. Aren’t you?”

I must confess that yes, I did want to get to know her, and to see if there could be more to us than her kissing me. As a toy.

"I am," I squeeze her hand in mine. "Your skin smells wonderful."

She burst out laughing at that, and any weirdness from my ‘transformation’ dissipates.

"It _does_! Well it did, at least, when I was a toy.”

She shakes her head at me, not knowing what to say.

Once she catches her breath, she tentatively raises her fingers up to stroke my scraggly beard. I stay stock still, not wanting to frighten her.

"You look like you could do with a shave," she giggles, and I scratch the back of my head, shrugging my ‘yes’.

"Come on," she tugs at my hand, "let me at least tidy you up a bit before I pop you half naked into a cab."

I bow my head and drag my heels, pretending to not want to go in the bathroom.

"Jo," I murmur, getting used to using her name. "Can I ask you something?"

She looks wary. I proceed anyway.

"You kissed me on the nose, earlier."

"As a toy."

"As a _toy_ , yes…, you’re quite right there.” I lean against the hallway wall.

"Would… it be any different if you kissed me on the nose now?"

My voice sounded tiny, but I had to ask. Carpe diem. I’m a new man now, after all. I thought I was going to be trapped in a pint-sized plush toy for the rest of my days.

"I suppose it wouldn’t make much difference, really," she smirks, and carefully walks up to me.

"But you’re too tall."

I slowly lower myself onto my knees,resting my palms on her hips for balance. “Is that okay?” I look up at her, and she bends to kiss me in response.

Her lips are warm and sweet, and I feel her on my skin more clearly than when I was a toy.

She pulls away, her eyes softening, and grins.

"More," I whisper, and she giggles, turning and practically _skipping_ to the bathroom.

A I chase after her, her laughter sounds like sweet bells chiming through her small apartment, and the sound of it reassures me that I was definitely, _definitely_ kissed by my true love.


End file.
